


Feel So Close

by That_One_Yaoi_Kid



Series: Summit [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Depressed Carl??, Drinking, Jägerbombs, M/M, Taxi Rides, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Yaoi_Kid/pseuds/That_One_Yaoi_Kid
Summary: Carl drinks too much, and a wave of embarrassment washes him away from shore when his favorite customer holds his hair back.





	Feel So Close

**Author's Note:**

> Carl vs. Lydia with Jägerbombs and Carl wins, but consequences fucking suck.

“Come on, Carlton the Great! It’ll be fun, better than last night at least.” Enid’s voice trails off and Carl rolls his eyes.

 

“E, as much as I would  _ love  _ to go out tonight, we’ve been to every bar in town. And I know for a fact that no one we know would want to drive an hour just to meet a different bartender.”

 

Currently, the two childhood friends are bickering in Carl’s living room; the male sitting cross-legged on the couch and Enid sitting on the back of the couch behind him while Mikey raids Carl’s fridge in the background.

“Come on,” Enid drawls, pulling the classic kicked puppy-look when Carl looks over his shoulder.

 

Carl scoffs, turning his attention back to his television. Before his friends barged into his home, he was occupied with the challenging task of binge watching the rest of  _ Grey’s Anatomy  _ so he would have something relatively interesting to talk about in the mere future. And just as he was starting to enjoy the show, the screen flickers off and Mikey is suddenly towering over him.

 

Carl silently glares up at Mikey who just grumbles, “Quit using dumbass excuses, because we both know that a new pub just opened last week two blocks over and you have plenty of time tomorrow to catch up on your corny shows.” 

 

Carl inhales slowly, weighing his options. He knows his friends won’t let him stay here, but he also does have a magical way of getting them out. It’s not a good way, rarely works and they’ll be pissed for weeks, and as Carl weighs it more, he quickly concludes that magical way isn’t worth it.

 

Carl sighs finally, “Alright, alright. But tomorrow we start our sobriety week, deal?” 

 

Mikey nods frantically, “Deal! I just need a damn drink and now!” 

 

“Fine, but I’m going to bet $5 on you breaking it first, Carlton.” Enid rolls her eyes and moves to collect her purse off the coffee table. 

 

Carl nods, “Mikey wait in the car. Enid and I will be out there in a minute.”

 

Mikey grunts and strides across the room and practically sprints to the front door.

 

“Of course I have an outfit for you. Thanks for asking!” Enid squeals sarcastically once the door shuts and starts pulling out clothing from her purse.

 

Carl takes it appreciatively before asking, “What shoes?”

 

“Use your amazing fashion sense, kid!” Enid calls as she approaches the front door, swinging it open and slamming it shut.

 

Carl chuckles and slips on the clothes without further disagreement. Carl spins on his heel to face the mirror behind him and smiles at his outfit. Purposely, Enid got a less revealing outfit; a scratchy teal sweater and black jeggings. 

 

On his way out, Carl snatches his teal Chuck’s off the floor before swinging the front door, turning off the lights and stepping outside. He locks the door quickly and jogs out to Enid’s jeep, climbing in the back. 

 

“Damn, I wanted shotgun!” He complains once Enid starts backing out of the driveway.

 

“Well maybe you shouldn’t waste so much time getting ready, _girlfriend_.” Mikey teases, looking over his shoulder. 

 

Enid laughs loudly when Carl flips Mikey off and they start their drive to the fresh  _ Hilltop Pub.  _

\--

“Wait, wait, wait!” Duane exclaims as Carl downs the rest of his glass. “So you guys come to the newest pub in town,  _ without  _ a designated driver?!” 

 

Duane has been cursed with gift of worrying so much to the point of being called, “Mom” by even his own family.

 

Carl rolls his eyes when Enid slurs a quick reply, “That’s...what Uber’s for, my man!” 

 

Duane holds his hands up and leans back in his chair. “Alright, alright. Far enough. But don’t puke in the back like last time.” Suddenly all eyes are on Carl and the boy guffaws.

 

“Hey! That was one time, and the only time! Don’t judge me, dude.” Carl defends, and Lydia shrugs, knocking back the rest of her rusty nail.

 

Suddenly, Sophia and Louis return with drinks, and Carl subconsciously reaches straight for the tray of Jägerbombs before Lydia catches him by the wrist. 

 

Carl meets her eye, “The fuck?”

 

Lydia smirks, “No way in hell do are you going to drink all of those by yourself, little man.”

Carl returns the smirk, “Watch me, bitch.”

 

Louis and Mikey ‘ooh’ lowly in the background, and Eliza pounds on the table like a court judge. “Ladies and gentlemen, this calls for a war! War has been declared!”

 

Lydia releases Carl’s wrist, holding out her hand, still smirking. “War has indeed been declared, Carl. Do you accept?”

 

Carl raises an eyebrow, “Just don’t pass out on me, Stonewall.”

 

“Touche, Abe.”

\--

“Go! Go! Go!” The mantra begins to fade when Carl downs his first bomb. And he’s already on his second by the time Lydia puts down her first glass.

 

And so the war rages, Lydia one glass behind Carl and she even begins feeling more drunk before the lightweight.

 

Lydia isn’t horrible when it comes to her tolerance, but Jäger and whiskey have a different spell than Vodka and beer. When Carl finishes his tray, he’s ready to double over and choke on his vomit while Lydia has two glasses left when she falls back into the small crowd behind her.

 

The pub erupts with laughter and Carl gags violently, feeling Duane drag him outside. And once his toes hit the curb, Carl hurls his insides out, barely missing his shoes.

 

Carl heaves more and Duane grunts, rubbing a hand up his back. “Shit, man. You shouldn’t have accepted that declare, just skip straight to the peace treaty.”   
  


Carl shakes his head, coughing before hurling more by his shoes. After a minute, Duane goes back inside to inform their friends and take a leak before they leave. Carl groans, dropping to his knees and gags, clutching his stomach before he bows his head again, hurling. But this time, a steady hand moves his hair out of his face, balling it up behind Carl’s head.

 

Carl inhales slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before turning his head slowly to look at whoever is holding his hair. And whatever fucking God cursed him that night to have (of all saviors and nice people in the world) Negan towers over him, a sorry smile pulling his lips. 

“Fuck, kid. Didn’t think you would be out like this, not after your hangover. Let’s get you home, alright?”

 

Carl gives a defeated nod, and the next few minutes are a blur. 

 

He stares down at the vomit-coated curb as Negan and Duane talk behind him, Duane worrying and Negan consoling him. Duane goes back inside and Negan calls a cab, that rolls in front of Carl soon after. Negan scoops Carl into his arms and dumps him inside the back seat, leaning his head against the window as the man climbs in beside him. 

 

And it isn’t long until Carl’s eyelids slip shut, darkness and sterile warmth consuming him, with Negan’s presence strangely making him feel safe and cared for.

\--

When Carl wakes up, he panics almost immediately after waking up. He’s wrapped up in his comforter, but both of his blue sheets are underneath him. Carl is still dressed, but they smell a lot more like manly cologne than puke and Jäger.

 

Carl feels a hand on his shoulder and visibly relaxes when Negan’s voice rings out behind him. “It’s alright, kid. Don’t sweat, I’m not a crazed stalker, I got your address from your friend and I plan to only be here until you’re steady on your hangover.”

 

Carl nods, slowing his breathing before spinning around to face the man. His scruff is freshly shaved, barely noticeable, and Carl isn’t sure he likes it grown or not. He’s dressed in a loose white v-neck tee, dark brown khakis, and he has aviator sunglasses hanging off his collar. Beside his bed, Negan’s sneakers were obviously tossed unceremoniously. 

 

Carl’s shoes are off too, and gives him a small smile. “Thank you.” His voice is hoarse, and his throat burns and he can still taste the alcohol in the back of his mouth.

 

Negan nods, abruptly standing up and when he bends down to put on his shoes, Carl grunts in disagreement, stopping the older man in his tracks.

 

He looks over at Carl and the brunette gives him a pleading look when his hand involuntarily reaches out to touch his bicep. “Stay, please.”

 

Negan sighs, glancing between Carl’s chapped lips and his sapphire eyes. “I really wish I could stay, but I have two sons at home. . .” 

 

Carl bites his lip and nods, “It’s fine. Go home to your kids, I understand. Do we still have plans for. . .?”

 

Negan smiles and nods, “Of course. I have a sitter for Sunday.” Negan slips on his shoes and stands up, but Carl’s voice catches his attention again.

 

“You know, when I’m not partying and working at Beth’s Coffee Shop, I’m a babysitter too. So feel free to ask me if you need a sitter.”

 

Negan chuckles, “Is there anything you don’t do, sunshine?” 

 

And with that, Negan strides out the room and softly shuts the door, leaving Carl in his dark bedroom, alone. 

 

The brunette listens to Negan’s soft footsteps approach the door, the front door squeaks open, and creaks shut. A few seconds later, brilliant headlights shine into Carl’s bedroom windows as the engine of Negan’s vehicle growls to life. The bright light disappears as Negan backs out of the driveway and drives off.

 

Then, and only then; sitting up in a cold, empty bed in the center of a frosty bedroom consumed in darkness, does Carl realize that he is alone. 


End file.
